


The Matchmakers

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Confession, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 7, Post canon, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne defends Jaime at his hearing in Winterfell. While she is very much aware that she's in love with him, she realises that she has some well-wishers who want her to confess to Jaime.





	The Matchmakers

“After everything his sister has done, do you still expect me to trust him?” Jon asked Brienne in astonishment.

_I trust you._

That day in the bath… those words that marked the beginning of her change of heart towards Jaime came back to her in a flash, as vividly as if it had been yesterday. “I trust him, your grace,” Brienne spoke from the bottom of her heart, carefully avoiding Jaime whose eyes were constantly fixed on her since the hearing had begun. “If he says his sister has betrayed us, then I’m afraid, that’s the truth.”

“His sister promised us an army,” Daenerys interrupted, wearing her usual icy expression and a thin smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She went back on it. What makes you believe that her brother isn’t a spy?”

To that, she had no answer, no proof that she could offer the queen. She just knew she could rely on Jaime. Her heart told her that he was nothing like his sister.

“Forgive me, your grace, for I have no backing to my claim.” Taking a deep breath, she went on. “After the meeting at King’s Landing, I happened to speak to Ser Jaime. I tried to talk him into a surrender--”

“--which was bluntly rejected by him based on your report.” It was Daenerys once again who spoke.

Tyrion stood up, clearing his throat. “Forgive my intrusion, your grace, but I’d like to add something to this.” He bowed, stepping forward. “My brother did, infact, repeat every word of Lady Brienne’s advice to my sister.”

Surprised at this revelation, Brienne instantly turned to Jaime whose gaze was still on her. _I’d never do anything to let you down,_ his eyes seemed to tell her. Forcing herself to look away from him, she focussed her attention on Tyrion who went on to detail his conversation with Jaime.

“He argued his best, your grace, until he was kicked out by the queen,” he finished.

Jon decided to intervene, a hint of uncertainty clouding his conviction. “I am inclined to believe Lord Tyrion, but…”

“Ser Jaime speaks the truth,” came a flat voice, making all heads turn to him. “As do Lady Brienne and Lord Tyrion,” said Bran, leaving Brienne wondering if the boy could read minds as well.

When no one interrupted this time, he continued in the same monotonous tone. “There seems to be a strange connection between Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne,” he declared with a vacant expression. Brienne stared at the floor, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as Bran went on. “I don’t know what it actually is, though I do know that it involves immense mutual respect and regard for each other.”

“In that case, I’d suggest we reserve our judgement against him for the time being,” Jon said, glancing at Daenerys for her approval. “I am confident that the Three-eyed Raven is right.”

“He killed my father,” the queen countered, the thirst for revenge burning bright in her eyes.

“He did the right thing,” Bran chimed in again. “If Ser Jaime had left him alive, thousands would have been burned to death at your father’s orders.”

Daenerys’ angry eyes left Brienne, turning to Bran instead. “You lie.”

“The Three-eyed Raven never lies,” Bran continued calmly. “What I see is the truth, your grace.”

“I trust Bran.” This time Jon was firm, leaving the queen no option but to consider Jaime’s petition. “Let’s ask the others as well,” he suggested. “Lord Tyrion has already made his stand clear.” He turned to Davos. “Ser Davos, what would your opinion be?”

“If they did want to send a spy, they could’ve sent anyone, why risk the heir to Casterly Rock?” Davos looked at the queen in an attempt to reason with her. “I’d say, let’s give him a chance to prove his loyalty to us.”

Jon looked towards his sister. “And what about you, Sansa?”

“I trust Lady Brienne, and if she can vouch for Ser Jaime, I’d take her word--”

“You should,” Bran cut in again. “He was the one who sent Lady Brienne on her quest for you. Had it not been for his assistance, you’d still be languishing in the Bolton household. He wished for her to protect you from his sister, to keep up the promise she had made to our mother.”

Brienne nodded her head in affirmation when Sansa looked at her, stunned to silence at this revelation.

“Ser Jaime,” Jon finally addressed him. “What drove you to betray your family?”

Jaime glanced at Brienne, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. “Someone once convinced me that there’s still honour in me,” he said, the memory of that meeting throwing her off-guard. “ That honour didn’t permit me to be an oathbreaker again. For once, I wanted to side with the good, to do the right thing.”

“Very well,” said Jon, sounding satisfied with Jaime’s sincerity. He turned to the remaining members of the court. “We can deal with him if he betrays us. For now, he is one of us. He is an able commander, his experience would be of value to us.” He looked at Daenerys for her consent.

“If that’s what you all want,” was all she said, unhappy at being unanimously out-voted.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Brienne made her way out when Bran called out to her. “A word please, Lady Brienne.”

She stayed back, waiting for the crowd to clear, uncomfortable with the boy’s skills. From whatever little she had heard of him, there was no limit to what he could see.

“So you’re the one responsible for Ser Jaime’s change of heart,” he said, without batting an eyelid.

“I don’t know--”

“Had it not been for you, he would still have been the villain he was before he met you. You care deeply for him, don’t you?” His voice was as emotionless as could be.

“I… I don’t…” she stammered, not quite knowing what to say.

“I’ve seen your future, my lady,” Bran went on. “Though it is only bits that I know, all I want to tell you is that Ser Jaime has been and will always be a significant part of your life.”

While Brienne’s mind was busy comprehending this confusing prediction, the boy went on to advise her. “I hope you know what to do next.”

Unnerved by the strange conversation, she left the hall, only to be intercepted by a maid who informed her that Sansa wished to meet her. Taking a detour to Sansa’s chambers, Brienne wondered what lay in store for her next.

“About what happened at the hearing...” Sansa began, giving her a playful smile.

“Thank you for believing me, my lady,” Brienne said hurriedly before the discussion could get to personal details about her past with Jaime. “I appreciate what you did there, standing up for him--”

Sansa’s smile only grew wider. “How long have you been in love with him, Lady Brienne?”

Taken aback by the bluntness of the question, Brienne felt her insides burn. “I’m not in love with Ser Jaime.”

Sansa’s smile didn’t falter. “Don’t deny it, my lady. I see it in your eyes, as clear as the daylight outside.” She plowed on without giving Brienne a chance to defend the allegation. “From where I stand, the fire appears to be burning with equal intensity on both sides--” she paused to enjoy Brienne’s blush, leaving her even more embarrassed “--for I see it in his eyes as well. If I’m not grossly mistaken, he too loves--”

“It can’t be.” Brienne refused to get carried away by her words. Bran was severely mistaken, so was Sansa and everyone else who assumed that Jaime’s heart belonged to her. “He loves his sister, and none but her.” _I can never take her place,_ she felt like adding, her heart sinking at the reality.

“Love can be strange at times,” Sansa said thoughtfully. “Does the fact that he abandoned his sister on merely your word not speak volumes about his feelings for you?”

This time Brienne was silent, and Sansa in no mood to let go of her that easily. “If I were you, I’d tell him how I feel,” she urged. “The war is coming, and we don’t know how many of us might survive. Why not make the most of the time you have, my lady?”

“I’m _certain_ he doesn’t love me,” Brienne asserted, unwilling to subject herself to misconceptions that would only result in despair and a broken heart later. “If there’s nothing else, could you excuse me, my lady?”

Leaving Sansa’s company, she hurried away and was about to enter the safe confines of her room when she almost bumped into Tyrion. “Lady Brienne,” he stopped her before she could politely greet him and make herself scarce. “May I have a word?”

“Sure.” She found herself unwillingly obliging him.

“I’m here to discuss my brother, my lady. Without wasting any time, let me come directly to the point.” He gave her a look that made her blush to the roots of her hair. “As your face clearly indicates, you do happen to care for him, don’t you?” He broke into a warm smile. “Unless I’m absolutely wrong in my assessment, you’re in love with him--” She opened her mouth to object, but he had not finished yet. “Before you start denying it, I’d implore you to give the matter careful consideration. It’s not often that two people so starved for affection happen to find love in each other. The two of you are a rare but fierce combination with either of you capable of laying down your life for the other.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Lord Tyrion.” _It is nothing but the truth,_ argued her mind _._

“Jaime was ready to kill for Cersei, but from what I learned from Brandon Stark, he was ready to die for you at Harrenhal.” Tyrion peered at her curiously. “ You both might as well face your feelings and do something about it before it’s too late.”

_What is the matter with everyone today?_

“I don’t love him,” she denied, her tone contradicting her words. “Nor does he.”

Tyrion merely continued smiling at her. “Think about it, my lady. I won’t push you any further, for it is not me you need to open up to.” He waddled away, leaving her all the more disturbed and agitated.

As if Jaime’s sudden arrival at Winterfell wasn’t enough, these people only added to her misery. First it was Bran, and then Sansa and now Tyrion… why were they all hell bent on convincing her about her feelings for Jaime? That was something she had known all along, and even acknowledged and accepted despite the agonising truth that he would never love her back. And what did Sansa know of his love for Cersei? Granted, he had now left his sister, but had she truly left his heart?

These disturbing thoughts not leaving her alone for even a second, she forced herself to fall asleep, for tomorrow would be another long day. She had her practice with Arya at daybreak and so many other tasks to follow. Pining for Jaime was not something she was looking forward to. Not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she resolved not to succumb to her feelings.

+++++

Having woken up earlier than usual the next morning, Brienne made her way to the grounds. It was still dark, and knowing that there was time for Arya to arrive, she decided to be gainfully occupied. Loosening her belt, she drew her sword and began polishing the blade, fondly recollecting the day she had been gifted the priceless sword.

 _It’s yours,_ he had said, when she had tried to return it assuming he had loaned it to her. The memory brought a smile to her face.

“Smiling to yourself is the first sign of madness, wench.”

She sprang to her feet, his voice leaving her unsettled and searching for words fitting enough to respond to his cheeky comment. “Though, in my opinion, you were always a bit mad,” Jaime remarked, approaching her with a smile that lit up his handsome features. “And way too straightforward.”

“Why are you up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “I wanted to have a word with you, hoped to find you here.”

Her heart leapt to her throat but she was determined not to jump into any conclusions. Deeming it fit to keep quiet, she waited for him to go on, but he seemed to be equally tongue tied. Ill at ease at the air of awkwardness between them, her eyes darted around, searching for a suitable reason to drive him away. “Arya would be here soon,” she said, hoping he would leave on hearing that.

“Are you training her?” He looked impressed. “I came to know that you beat Sandor Clegane--”

She stared at him. “How--”

“Word travels, wench.” He chuckled, his eyes falling on the blade in her hand. “Care to practise with me until your partner arrives?” he challenged, pulling out his sword.

His words left her smiling, taking her back to the Riverlands. “Do you really want to duel with me again after the way it ended the last time?”

He nodded, taking a step closer. “I’d like nothing more than to relive the last worthy memory of my right hand.” Having said that, he moved quickly, swinging the blade at her so suddenly that she was left with no time to react in any other way but to parry his blow.

When their swords met, Brienne shunned her reservations and put her heart and soul into the weapon in her hand. The sword defined her very existence and she would give everything she had to be worthy of wielding it. He went on attacking, while she kept defending, matching every blow he rained on her with an equally expert defensive stroke. “You’re not bad with your left hand,” she grunted, finding it increasingly difficult to counter his strikes.

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me, wench.” He lunged at her, aiming to get her arm but missing her narrowly.

Forgetting for a moment that it was the one-handed Jaime she was competing with, she charged at him with all her strength, eager to attack this time, keen to get him to yield to her and finish it off on her terms. She soon got her wish and struck him on the chest, not too hard but good enough to draw blood, just inches below his collarbone, luckily missing his heart. Wincing in pain, he drew away. His sword fell to the ground and he stood there clutching the wound which was now becoming a rapidly spreading blot of red on his white shirt.

Brienne froze, the blade dropping from her hand with a loud clang. “Gods, what have I done!” she gasped, panic flooding her from top to toe, numbing her brain and hindering her ability to think coherently. “My apologies, Ser Jaime.” She stared at his chest in horror. “I had forgotten that it was Valyrian steel that I held.”

Jaime attempted a smile which unfortunately turned into a grimace. “I’ll be fine, wench,” he assured her, breathing heavily. His face was pale and devoid of blood, and he seemed to be anything but fine. Not knowing what else to do, she ripped his shirt off. She tied the garment around the wound in a desperate bid to arrest the bleeding, her hands shaking as she worked.

“Calm down, Brienne, it’s just a scratch,” he reassured her, panting with the effort of talking “There’s no need for all this fuss. I’ve been through much worse.”

But Brienne wasn’t listening to a single word he said. “What if I had killed you?” she muttered to herself, fumbling with the makeshift bandage as she made repeated attempts to keep it in place. “How could I live with myself if you happened to die?” She kept talking rapidly, not in control of what she spoke. “I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. You’re the most important person in my life. I cannot watch you die. I...” _I love you,_ she almost blurted out. Eyes brimming with tears, she checked herself before she could make the mistake of confessing her feelings.

“Say that again?” He lifted her chin and his eyes met hers in an intense gaze.

“I… I meant,” she faltered, blinking back her tears and trying to gather her wits, ashamed at pouring her heart out to him inadvertently. “I couldn’t forgive myself for mortally injuring a fellow soldier,” she corrected herself, making amends for her loose tongue.

“You just called me the most important person in your life.”

“I over-reacted,” she lied, her heart berating her for her words. “I panicked at what I had done. With the war ahead of us, aren’t we all soldiers fighting for the living?”

“Is that all I am to you?” he asked her quietly. “A fellow swordsman?”

Unable to lie again and not daring to venture into dangerous territory either, she decided to change the subject. “You should consult Samwell Tarly for that wound,” she said, eying the patch on his chest. “It is time for me to take leave of you, Ser Jaime.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to run away as soon as she could, but he caught her wrist.

“I thought you were here to meet Arya.” He pulled her closer. “While we wait for her, you can answer my question, wench.”

“I’ve already told you,” she said firmly, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers seeping through her skin and penetrating her very being, her soul. “You’re nothing but an ally--”

Jaime tightened his grip on her wrist. “Does a small injury to every man in your army agitate you this much?”

“I’m not agitated,” she cried out, miserably failing in her attempt to hide her distress. “I’m just a little concerned--”

“You turned white the moment you dealt that blow, wench,” he said. “Your hands were shaking when you attended to me. I’ve never seen the powerful Maid of Tarth so vulnerable at the sight of a wound.”

“That was just--” she began counter-arguing, but found herself at a loss for words yet again.  

“--just what?” he questioned. “Why is it that pain of my injury seems to be consuming you?” At that, she looked up at him, stunned by his observation. “I see it in your eyes, Brienne, the hurt and agony. The distress that’s eating you comes directly out of my suffering. I’m wounded, but you’re the one in pain.”

Blushing, she made a weak attempt to beat down his extremely accurate conclusion. “It’s not like that. I’m just guilty that I’m the one responsible for this.” She pointed to the red stain on his shirt.

“That’s not just guilt, wench. I know guilt, I’ve felt it myself… I still do,” he lowered his voice, now barely audible despite standing so close to her. “What you’re going through is something else, altogether.”

This was beginning to get out of control. She had to get away from his presence before her emotions took control of her logic and she made a fool of herself. “I’d rather be going--” She tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but he only held her tighter.

“It kills you to see me in pain, Brienne. You suffer when you see me suffer. Why, may I ask?” Not waiting for an answer, he went on. “You care about me, don’t you? You--”

“Why should you bother about how I feel?” she snapped, finally reaching her breaking point. “That’s my problem, Ser Jaime, not yours.” Her eyes once again filled with tears that threatened to break her steely exterior. “You don’t have to oblige me in any way, nor do you owe me anything in return for how I feel about you.”

“You think this is about us obliging each other?” He let go of her hand and bent to pick up Oathkeeper. “If you think this--” he held up the blade to her face “--is a favour I’ve bestowed upon you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Brienne wanted to believe him, to believe Bran and Tyrion and Sansa, yet she couldn’t allow herself the joy of the possibility that he returned her feelings. Not until she knew for sure.

Jaime shifted closer. “I know quite well that I owe you no obligation, wench.” He returned the blade to her belt, his hand lingering on her waist. She shivered at his touch, but didn’t back away.

Shaking herself back to sanity, she bounced back to senses before things could go out of hand. Some things could never change. She would always be the ugly wench who beat him in combat, while Cersei the love of his life. “I have to take leave of you, ser.” She took a step backwards, but Jaime only drew her in.

“I hope Brandon Stark is right.” He smiled, a smile more radiant than the light of a thousand golden suns. “Do you know that he happened to reveal a few things about my future?”

Brienne gaped at him. “Did he speak to you too? He said the same thing to me, as did--”

“Tyrion?” prompted Jaime, his smile widening.

“Yes,” she replied, wondering what was going on. “And Sansa as well.”

“What did they tell you? That I’m desperately, hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you?” His voice was tender, as was the look in his eyes. “Those were my brother’s exact words when he confronted me, my lady. He’s so good a judge of people that his accuracy sometimes scares me.”

Brienne stood there, her cheeks on fire. “No. They said that I--” she halted, blushing deeper.

“Did they claim that you love me?” Jaime’s hopeful eyes were fixed on her.

She nodded shyly, dropping her gaze to his glorious chest instead of his face. But that didn’t help either. It only increased her desire for him, if that was even possible.

“What do I make of your affirmation, my lady?” he pressed on with a teasing edge to his voice. “Is that a yes to my question? Or is it a confession that you love me?”

“Both,” she mouthed, still not having the courage to face his eyes.

“Did the Three-eyed Raven also tell you that Cersei only remains in my heart as my sister. She’s no longer the love of my life.” Brienne looked up at him, a sudden warmth of happiness filling her heart. She could finally allow herself to believe that he loved her, and _only_ her. “That special place has long ago been filled by someone else, wench.” His eyes sought hers, eyes that shone with such love and longing that she had never seen before.

Before she could react, she found herself in his arms, the feel of his firm chest against her palm driving her insane, evoking hitherto unknown sensations in her. He kissed her, slowly at first and then deeply, his lips good enough a proof for the ache and desire he harboured for her. Closing her eyes, she finally allowed herself to experience the bliss that she had never felt before, succumbing to his passion and emotion, both of which were abundantly evident in the way he kissed her.

When he released her, she felt light-headed and dizzy, all logical thinking evaporating into thin air. Her mind began working again after a while and she clung to him, the feel of his skin sinking into hers as her mind said a silent prayer to the seven wishing for this man to be hers until the end of their days, hoping that this wasn’t a lovely dream that she would wake up from.

“This was what they all meant, wench.” He began nuzzling her neck. Suddenly aware of her surroundings and the realization that Arya might be here anytime, she made a feeble attempt to free herself, but he pulled her back into his arms, giving her waist a light squeeze. “We’ve been such idiots, haven't we--” he breathed into her neck, sending a wave of pleasure through her “--battling against our hearts and fighting our feelings all these years. We’ve stayed apart for too long, but not anymore.”

“Ser Jaime--”

He brought his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “Jaime,” he corrected her softly, wrapping his stump around her. “My name is Jaime. It’s time you got rid of the _ser_ , wench, as it’s odd for a woman to refer to her love by his title.”

Overwhelmed, she simply flung her arms around his neck, closing the remaining gap between them by enveloping him in a tight embrace.

He flinched, his hand reaching for the wound again.

“I’m so sorry.” She drew away hastily, worried that she might have caused further damage.

“No problem, my lady.” Pulling her into a gentle hug, he kissed her again, his warm, sweet lips leaving her pleasantly breathless once more. “And thank you--” he murmured into her lips. “--for defending me in court last night.”

“I trust you more than anyone else, Jaime.” She smiled at him lovingly. “How could I stand by and watch them accuse you of something you weren’t guilty of?”

The smile on his face faded the next instant and he let go of her. “Before I begin a new phase of my life with you, there’s something you need to know.” He averted his eyes, looking ashamed. “I was the one who crippled Brandon Stark.” He went on to relate the tale of his misdeed to her. “I’m at the mercy of your judgement, wench,” he finished. “I bared myself in front of you in Harrenhal in every possible way-body, mind and soul, so this is something I do not wish to conceal from you anymore.”

Brienne was touched by his honesty. “You were a different person then.” She slid her palm to his face, cupping his cheek and caressing his beard. “I don’t care about your past sins anymore. You’re a new man now--”

“--only because of you, my lady.” His hand now on hers, he brought her palm to his lips and kissed it gently.

They moved in to kiss again when a cough behind her forced them to spring apart. “I can come back later if you’re busy, Lady Brienne.” Turning around, she found Arya watching them with an amused smirk on her impish face.

It was Jaime who answered her. “Not at all, Lady Stark.” He released Brienne immediately. “I’m glad you're both training together.” He backed away, giving Brienne a little bow. “I hope to see you again, Lady Brienne.”

“At the Godswood?” quipped Arya, her eyes wide with expectation. “Can we look forward to a wedding ceremony soon, Ser Jaime?”

“Lady Arya!” Brienne admonished her, embarrassed.

Jaime nodded, tossing Arya a playful wink. “Tonight, if my lady agrees.” As he strode past Brienne, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “The girl has a point. Meet me there at dusk, wench. I’ll be waiting.”

Brienne said nothing, just smiling in response.

He began walking away, but when he was gone just a few feet, he spun around. His eyes met hers, wordlessly seeking her answer.

She slowly nodded her consent, his overjoyed face making her wish for the day to end before it had even begun. Unable to stop smiling, she continued gazing in his direction until he was just a tiny speck in the distance.

“You’re distracted. Are you sure you’d be able to train today?” came Arya’s teasing voice from behind her. “Or would you rather take the day off to dream about your handsome husband-to-be…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Do let me know if you liked it :)


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